Peter Pan Lives
by Georgie Max
Summary: It's been two and a half years since Peter Pan came and whisked Jane, Wendy Darling's daughter, away to Neverland for spring cleaning in Wendy's place. Just as with Wendy, he told Jane he'd come back "next year." But he hasn't, and Wendy sees that her daughter is starting to lose hope and doubt Peter. {One-shot. Rated K.}


It was a bright, beautiful, starry night when Wendy Darling crossed the room to tuck her daughter, Jane, into bed. She mused as she looked around the room that it was not unlike the night so long ago when another slim, elegant lady in a long party gown tucked her daughter away into bed, along with her two sons, only for those three children to be whisked away on that very night from the very nursery in which Wendy tucked her daughter into bed every night. But now it was that daughter's daughter, and times had changed greatly. As Wendy gazed upon her daughter, who in turn was gazing out the window from her worn, faithful window seat, she saw something there that wasn't there before. Two and a half years ago, Wendy's daughter had flown away with that little imp of a boy, Peter Pan.

_Peter Pan_.

Wendy savored the words. They were sweet, so sweet, and yet so bitter, and forbidding, and tragic. They brought back the flood of sweet memories of time spent in Neverland, where Peter lived, with the lost boys and Tinkerbell, that little devil of a fairy, and adventures that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago, or to be simply a very vivid dream in the sleep of a child. But then she remembered how Peter had forgotten her. He had promised to come and get her every year for spring cleaning, and he did, once or twice, every year or two. But then, as time went on, he finally forgot her and never came again, not once, until she was grown, and Jane was playing and growing in the nursery. Wendy remembered how Peter had flown in the window, expecting to take Wendy away with him again for spring cleaning, only to find that she had grown up-she was an adult now, a real mother, a creature Peter hated with a passion. And Wendy remembered how he had taken Jane away for spring cleaning instead, and how she had worried over how long Jane would be away, or if she would even ever come back at all. Wendy had felt just a tinge of remorse, too. Why did she have to grow up, anyway?

And then Peter, good on his word, had brought Jane back to Wendy, promising to come back for her next year for spring cleaning.

But he didn't. He didn't come back. It had been two and a half years, and Jane was quickly growing into a pretty young lady. Her red hair had darkened into a deep auburn and grown down past her shoulders. But she wasn't like the other girls-she didn't primp and curl and make herself all prim and proper. No, she was a free spirit. She walked to the beat of her own drum. She lived life more alive.

Now she sat in her window seat, fully engaged, staring out at the stars, brown eyes big, shoulders drawn in, leaning into the window as far as she could. Wendy saw something in her eyes-something was gone. Or was something else there in its place? There was something there that held deep sadness, a sorrow most adults wouldn't know. She laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Jane, it's time for bed."

Jane whirled around quickly, and burst out, "Ma, is he even real?"

Wendy knew what she meant, but she hesitated a moment. "Is who real, Jane dear?"

"Peter. I want to have hope that he'll come back again and take me for some more adventures, but sometimes I doubt if he's even real anymore, or if he ever was."

Wendy couldn't hold herself back. She seized Jane's shoulders and looked firmly and deeply into her daughter's eyes.

"Jane, people are going to tell you that he's not real. You're going to doubt it. You're going to wonder if it all wasn't just a dream, a silly fancy." Oh, didn't she remember those very problems plaguing her! "But I want you to fight that."

"Why?"

"Because he _is _real. He shows himself in every newborn baby's laugh, in every gorgeous, starry night like this one, in every child who is still enchanted with the thought of fairies. So long as children dream and conjure up fantasies in their heads, Peter Pan will be real. And don't you ever forget that, my dear. Even if you never see his face again, he will show himself in the dreamy moments among the dreary ones in this world."

Jane stared up at her mother, with eyes glowing with enchantment. That something had returned-Jane had not lost her dreaming eyes after all!

Wendy leaned over and pushed up the window. A cool breeze rushed in. The stars took on a new beauty.

"We'll leave the door open for Peter, love."


End file.
